


Not Up For It

by ArchOfImagine, hufflecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Series, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflecas/pseuds/hufflecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that Dean never thought would happen - like being old enough to have <i>real</i> health problems. But when his 'dick problem' starts making him more than just a little cranky, it doesn't take long for Sam to realize what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Up For It

Dean had seen heaven, hell, and purgatory. He had died more times than he could count and had even spent time as a demon—which meant that getting to an age where medical problems started to develop seemed both ridiculous and unlikely.

But there he was, on the verge of _forty_ and getting more than a little frustrated with his own body. With a frustrated groan, he tossed the latest copy of Busty Asian Beauties across his bedroom. It had gotten so bad that he had actually been reading the fucking articles instead of looking at the pictures of naked women!

“You’ve betrayed me,” he growled, sending his limp penis a glare. “After all I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me?”

Deciding to give up for the night, Dean shut off the lamp beside his bed and settled in for another restless night.

\---

By the second week of dealing with his ‘problem’, Dean knew that he was a little wound up and grumpy. Okay, maybe a lot wound up. It really wasn’t his fault that Castiel had happened to step in at the wrong time and say something so stupid that it pissed Dean off. It also wasn’t his fault that he had yelled and gotten so angry that the angel went running back to heaven.

When he looked up from his desk in the bunker library and saw Sam standing with his arms crossed over his chest, Dean knew he was in for a lecture. 

Before Sam could begin reading him the riot act, Dean held up a hand. “Hey, it’s not my fault that Cas doesn’t know the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon and his pie tasted like shit. After all these years on earth, he should have figured it out by now.”

“He spent six hours in the kitchen trying to make you something so you’d feel better.”

Dean had a moment of remorse, but it was gone as quick as it came. “Still.”

His younger brother rolled his eyes before walking over and sitting down at the chair across from Dean’s. “Okay, what the fuck is going on with you, Dean? I know it’s not the usual ‘itching to hunt’ syndrome, because we just got back three days ago.” A mischievous smile curled up the side of his mouth. “Are you pregnant? Because your mood swings really have me worried—”

It may have been a little childish, but Dean didn’t regret balling up his sandwich wrapper and throwing it at his brother’s head. “Shut the fuck up, I’m not fucking pregnant.”

“Whoa.” Sam caught the wrapper before it could reach his face and suddenly he looked more worried than angry. “You can’t even manage a good comeback? Shit, maybe we should call the doctor, something is definitely wrong.”

As soon as Dean saw Sam pulling his phone from his pocket, he jumped up and across the table to try and grab the device. “I’m not going to the doctor, Sam!”

Without missing a beat, Sam pushed his chair back and stood, holding the phone out of reach. “Okay, now I know something is _really_ wrong. Tell me what’s going on, Dean. Are you sick? You made it through that hunt just fine, but you should have told me if you weren’t feeling well.”

Feeling like a petulant child, Dean slid back into his chair and shook his head. “I’m fine.” He flipped through the pages of the book laying in front of him and prayed his brother would just, for once, let it go. He knew that it was more likely to rain pies.

“Dean, come on.”

“No, Sam.” Aggravation seeped back into his words as he stood, moving out of the library and back towards his bedroom. “Just leave me alone.”

Once he was safely barricaded in his room, Dean laid back on his bed with a sigh. It would make sense to tell his brother, the nerd would probably have a quick solution to his problem. But there had already been way too many moments when their relationship went past codependent brothers and into something _more_. And yeah, he had come to terms with whatever was between them, but letting something happen in the heat of the moment was a lot different than seeking it out.

Not to mention the added element of embarrassment that came with not being able to maintain an erection.

“Ugh!” Grabbing one of the bed’s pillows, he pulled it over his face and let out a loud growl. He just wanted to get off! Three weeks was beyond normal for his self-loving ways, and it was driving him insane.

\---

“Here.”

Dean looked up over his bowl of cheerios to see his brother holding out a small orange prescription bottle. He frowned. “I told you I wasn’t sick, Sammy.”

“And I believed you.” Sam set the bottle down beside of Dean’s glass of milk. “Then I put two and two together. I’m actually kind of ashamed that I didn’t see it before. Between the irritation and the moodiness, not to mention the five minute showers, the answer was staring me right in the face.”

There was no way… Letting go of his spoon, Dean reached out and picked up the bottle of pills. On the white label the word ‘Viagra’ stood out in bold print. Beneath the pill brand was one of Sam’s aliases above the doctor information. “Since when do you have a Viagra prescription, Sammy?”

Sam moved around the kitchen, fixing himself his usual morning smoothie. “Since yesterday afternoon when I figured you out and went to the doctor for you. Didn’t take much to give the man some symptoms and awkward conversation and walk away with a script for some little blue pills. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Dean dropped the pills back on the table and pushed them away with a look of disgust as he focused back on his cereal. “I don’t need these. I don’t have a dick problem.”

“Right. Then why haven’t you jerked off in the shower in three weeks?”

“Dude—” Dean used his spoon to point at Sam. “You pay wayyyy too much attention to my personal habits.”

Sam just laughed, hitting the button to turn the blender on and focusing away from Dean. As Dean finished his breakfast, he stared at the menacing little orange bottle and wondered if they really _would_ help him. If they did it would be a relief, that was for sure. But taking them would mean admitting to Sam that he really _did_ have a dick problem.

Dean waited patiently, eating every bite of cereal as slowly as possible, until Sam had poured his smoothie into a bottle and said something about leaving for his morning run.

It wasn’t until the large metal door had shut behind Sam that Dean picked up the bottle and snapped off the top. He didn’t bother with reading the recommended dosage—all he was worried about was getting off and getting off quickly. Besides, pills never affected him as much as they said they would.

Three pills later, he went to take a shower and hoped that a little one-on-one attention would get his dick in the mood.

Despite soapy suds and gentle strokes, his penis continued to lay limply. “Damn it. Knew those pills were a load of shit.”

He got out of the shower and dried off, getting dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Since he felt like shit, he was definitely going to spend the day being lazy and feeling sorry for himself. He went to their converted movie room and popped in a copy of Star Wars before spreading out on the couch.

Dean was halfway through the movie when he smirked and pressed a hand against his dick without even realizing. “Han Solo is so fucking hot,” he mumbled, appreciating the way a young Harrison Ford in tight pants fought off a bunch of Stormtroopers. 

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and remembered the dream he’d once had where Han Solo had tied him up and fucked him hard into the bed. “Mmm…”

His eyes flew open in a flash and he stared down at the tent in his sweatpants with a wide smile. “Hallelujah!” Not daring to risk losing the erection in the time it would take to get back to his bedroom, Dean shoved his sweatpants down to his knees and happily wrapped a hand around his cock. It felt _amazing_. He stroked himself slowly, keeping his grasp light as he pushed his thumb through the beads of precome, moaning at the pleasure of every sensation. 

Yes, yes, that was good. His left hand moved without hesitation to palm at his balls and he never imagined jerking off could feel so damn awesome. 

Eyes closed, he let the sensations of his hands and Harrison Ford’s voice wash over him as he stroked himself to the edge way too quickly. He came hard, hips raising off the couch and come falling onto his clean shirt. “Oh, fuck!”

He dropped his hands away and relaxed back on the sofa, eyes still closed as he took a few deep breaths. 

When he finally came to, he looked down at his body and frowned. Instead of his erection tapering off and softening after he came, it still stood tall, leaking come and waiting for him to pay it more attention. 

_Oh, shit._ He suddenly remembered how many pills he had taken and panicked. What if he had taken too many? What if he had over-jerked his dick and now it was broken? What if it would going to be stiff forever? How was he going to hunt? How was he going to piss?

Dean wiped his hands on his shirt and pulled his pants back up and over his dick, ignoring the erection as he fumbled to shut the TV off and stand.

“Sam! Sammy!” He searched the bunker, knowing his brother had to be back from his run. The library and kitchen were empty, so he moved on to the hallway that lead to Sam’s bedroom. Before he could make it that far, the bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out amidst a blanket of steam.

His little brother was dripping wet, wearing only a small towel around his hips and looking concerned. “Everything okay, Dean?”

Dean felt a few more drops of come leak from his cock as he stared at Sam. “I, uhh…” His eyes were focused on the endless miles of tanned skin before him and his mind had completely short circuited. 

“Uhm, Dean,” Sam looked him over, obviously not dealing with having all of his brain flow going south instead of north. “Is that come all over your shirt?”

A frown on his face, Dean tore his gaze away from Sam’s soaking wet body and looked down at himself. He hadn’t realized just how crazy he looked when he had gone in pursuit of his brother. His black shirt was splattered with splotches of sticky white come and his erection was still tenting his sweatpants. He pouted, looking back up at Sam. “Sammy, I have a problem.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “How many did you take?”

“I, um… maybe… three?”

“Dean!” Sam threw his hands in the air in exasperation, causing his towel to slip lower and gain Dean’s attention once more. “Hey? Hey!” Stepping forward, Sam snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face. “Focus. If you had read the fucking label, you would know that you were only supposed to take _one_ , Dean. Now you’re going to be riding the horny bus to comeland for the next four to five hours.”

“What?” He glared down at his tented pants. “ _Four to five hours?!_ I’m going to get carpal tunnel, Sammy!”

“Well it’s your own damn fault for not reading the label like a fucking adult!”

Dean continued to pout. “Help me? Please?”

Sam immediately shook his head. “No.”

“ _Please?!_ I’m not above begging, Sammy.”

After a long moment, Sam finally relented and looked at him. “Okay, but I get to top!” When Dean tried to protest, he cut him off. “No, that’s my condition. It’s only fair. Besides, it’s my turn anyway.”

“Fine. I’ll be in the bedroom.” He turned, heading for his own room with his head ducked. His dick was hard and needy… he didn’t _want_ to bottom, damn it. He wanted to fuck something silly. But beggars could never be choosers, and at least he was finally getting some help.

Not that he really needed any. He would’ve been fine on his own.

Dean left the bedroom door open and sat on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when Sam’s tall frame walked through the doorway.

“Take your shirt off,” Sam said, dropping his towel, “you’re disgusting.”

“Says the dude who’s about to fuck his brother,” Dean shot back, a devilish smile playing across his lips. He quickly peeled the offending article of clothing off his body and sent it flying across the room. Sam came closer, kneeling on the bed and waiting as Dean got rid of his sweat pants, too.

“I don’t hear any complaints,” Sam said as he dropped to all fours and climbed up along the length of the bed. He settled himself on top of Dean’s thighs, knees on either side of his older, and currently quite irritated, brother. 

“That’s because you’re—”

But any retort Dean intended to make was cut off by his own strangled gasp as Sam took up his still swollen cock in his large, hot hand. Sam smeared the precome leaking out of the tip over the head with his thumb and Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head. Dean let out a moan that he meant to have Sam’s name included in it, as well as several English words, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was.

“Not so pissy anymore, huh?” Sam said, with an air of nonchalance. He started moving his hand up and down the length of Dean’s cock.

When Dean lifted his head to sneak a peek, however, he saw that Sam was not truly as unaffected as he was trying to appear.

“Yeah, Sammy, that feels nice,” Dean said, pushing his hips up into Sam’s grasp. 

“Good,” was all Sam said back, but he had a look in his eyes that said something more. He leaned forward, easing his grip on Dean’s cock for only a moment, and gave Dean a single, tender kiss. When he settled back onto his seat on Dean’s legs he picked up a faster, almost punishing pace. He stroked up and down Dean’s erection without any regard to the way Dean was digging his nails into the blankets, his breathing heavy and uneven. If Sam knew Dean was on the edge he didn’t show any indication. He worked his brother right through his orgasm, not seeming to mind the mess on his hand.

While Dean caught his breath Sam leaned back over the edge of the bed to retrieve his towel. He cleaned up the mess on Dean’s stomach first—although there wasn’t much there this time—before wiping his hand clean. Dean heaved himself up onto his elbows, his eyes tracking Sam’s every movement. Sam’s own cock looked to be achingly hard, but he hadn’t touched himself yet.

“Feel better?” Sam said, directing a glance to Dean’s dick, still standing valiantly at attention.

“Fuck you,” Dean said with a huff, falling back against the plush surface of the bed.

“I thought we talked about that already, Dean.” Sam eased himself up and off Dean on one side and spread Dean’s knees before setting between them. He ducked his head down and pressed a line of kisses against the inside of Dean’s thigh.

“Are you sure I can’t, you know, do something for you? I could suck you off.”

“Later, Dean. This is just about you.” Sam pressed Dean’s thighs further apart, gently, and began to suck at the skin at the crease of his inner thigh.

Dean had to swallow back a lump of emotion as he also tried to bite back a moan. He had fucked up _again_ and here was Sammy to bail him out. It wasn’t even life-threatening. He took a deep breath. He’d sure never overdose on fucking Viagra again. Just as he vowed to lay back and enjoy himself he was brought sharply back to reality by a wet sensation just outside his entrance. 

Sam took his time using his tongue to work Dean open, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of Dean’s legs. By the time Dean’s legs were quivering under his brother’s hands Sam was able to get just more than the tip of his tongue inside Dean’s ass. When he pulled back Dean’s hole was sloppy wet and relaxed enough for Sam to slip one finger inside, but Dean pulled himself together enough to grab lube and a condom from the bedside table anyway. He tossed both onto the bed beside Sam, who must have gotten the hint because he picked up the small bottle with a wicked grin on his lips. 

Withdrawing his hand fully he slicked up two fingers and pressed one inside Dean. After the first breach it slid in easily. When one finger moved in and out with little resistance Sam added a second and soon, a third.

Dean’s toes were curling and his hands were clenching and unclenching, desperate to hold onto something. “Dammit, Sammy,” he breathed out, desperately.

“Go ahead Dean. Touch yourself.” He didn’t give Dean the lube but instead squirted a generous amount straight onto Dean’s poor, strained cock. 

Dean hissed at the sensation of the cold liquid but he took himself in his hand and it warmed quickly enough.

“Feel ready for me?” His voice was surprisingly soft.

“Yes. Please, Sammy.”

Sam was careful to not pull his fingers out so fast that he hurt Dean, but otherwise there was no waiting. With his wet hand Sam started pulling at his cock, although he hadn’t lost much of his erection at all. Quickly unwrapping the condom, he rolled it down over his cock before lubing himself up from the bottle only a little more and hoisting Dean’s knees up, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him down the bed. Sam pushed in slowly at first but then sank in nearly to his base in one smooth movement.

Dean sounded like he’d been punched. “Oh, Jesus—Sam!”

“Fuck, sorry, Dean. You just, you just took me in so well.” The smile on his face took a turn from pleased to lecherous. “You like getting fucked, don’t you?”

The answer was usually no. With all the other guys he had been with—which was admittedly only two or three—Dean hated bottoming. It just wasn’t his thing. But for Sam? With Sam, he might pout and bitch about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love every second of it.

“I might if you’d, unh, actually move.”

Sam said nothing. Taking one of Dean’s calves in each hand he lifted them to rest against his shoulders before pulling out most of the way and slamming in again.

The movement was almost enough to make Dean see stars.

Sam pulled out and pounded into Dean once more before setting a relentless pace. Dean resumed stroking his cock, trying to fuck his fist as furiously as Sam was fucking into him. It was almost too much sensation for his body to handle. His nerve endings already felt frayed and raw from coming twice earlier. But if he angled his hips _just so_... and that was it. Sam only had to hit his prostate once and he felt another orgasm rip itself through his body. Sam must have have been controlling himself because as soon as he saw Dean coming, he let himself go as well. 

Dean looked down at his cock and was intrigued, in a far away sort of way, that while he’d _come_ , there was no come _on him._ He was, however, covered in lube in a few places, and covered in sweat everywhere else. Dean barely noticed Sam pull out, or wipe the towel once over Dean’s lube-sticky crotch and ass. He was completely gone by the time Sam pulled a blanket on top of him.

\---

The next morning, Dean woke up feeling more than a little exhausted. And _thirsty_. He fumbled through the mess of clothes still piled on his desk from the last time he did laundry, and came out with a clean t-shirt and pair of boxer-briefs. As he pulled the underwear on, he stared for a moment at his overused dick that was once again limp—thank God. 

Somewhat dressed, and more than a little sore, he made his way to the kitchen and smiled appreciatively at the smell of coffee. Sam was already at the table, a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. 

Dean poured a cup of coffee and groaned. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “You’re probably a little dehydrated after yesterday. Might want to drink a few glasses of water as well.”

As the soothing bitterness of hot coffee slid down his throat, Dean remembered more of the previous night and frowned at his brother. “Did I really come so much that I _couldn’t_ come anymore?”

“Well, that’s not the most eloquent way of putting it, but yes.” Sam motioned to the pill bottle that still sat on the table. “Next time, just take one, okay?”

“Oh no.” Dean shook his head. “Won’t be a next time. It was just a phase. A temporary back-up… all fixed now. Thanks, doc.”

His brother gave him a knowing look, and Dean sighed. Whatever bullshit he was trying to spin was never going to work on Sam. The younger man knew him too well.

And Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Sam focused back on his oatmeal, a thought occurred to Dean, making him grin. 

“Hey Sammy… it’s my turn to top. Maybe _you_ should take a pill…”


End file.
